


Yankee Swap

by concupiscence66



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concupiscence66/pseuds/concupiscence66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa Claus helps Howard and Vince develop a new appreciation for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Yankee Swap  
Author: Concupid  
Pairing: Howince  
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)  
Warnings: language, references to sex, angst  
Summary: Howard is debating what to give his girlfriend for Christmas, and Vince is less than helpful.  
Author’s note: I decided to put aside my WIPs until I finished school and just write a fun little body swap fic for Christmas. As usual, the story got completely out of hand. Thanks, Bluey, for the support and the beta and for helping this grow from a little idea to a monster!

“Astrid was very clear that I’m meant to keep it to one gift, but I think you can see my difficulties, sir. On one hand, I have an incredibly rare record containing possibly the most soulful trumpet solo ever captured on vinyl, and on the other hand, I have these very expensive earrings that look a bit like jellyfish.”

Vince grabbed the earrings from Howard’s ill-informed hand. They were from The House of Jaques Le Cube, and they were amazing. They were made of the precious stone the “moon diamond,” a stone alleged to be made from the tears of the moon. Vince was a bit foggy on the science involved, but the stones were beautiful. 

“They do look like jellyfish,” Vince agreed. 

“But will she like them?” Howard’s eyes were fixed on Vince and full of worry.

“How should I know? She’s your girlfriend. What’s her stand on jellyfish? Is she pro or con?”

“She has a necklace with these little stones. Do you reckon she’ll like the earrings? Or should I give her the album? The album is more personal… but she does love jewelry. I need your help, Little Man. The female mind is a mystery to me.”

Vince snorted his agreement. Howard had been dating Astrid for nearly five months, but he still had no clue what he was doing. Against all odds, the beautiful American had decided she quite liked Howard and wanted to keep in touch as she traveled the world with her career. Astrid was a buyer for a shop in New York City that was so exclusive, it didn’t have a name. Vince had long planned to visit the shop as something of a fashion pilgrimage, but could never afford the trip. Now his wardrobe was full of clothing with a blank label, and he’d still never left Shoreditch. Astrid was forever swimming in sample clothing and accessories and sending Howard care packages filled with expensive and rare items. Each box was sure to contain at least a handful of pieces for Vince, plus Howard ended up handing over most of his gifts to Vince as well. Howard just couldn’t get into fancy clothes, shampoos, or conditioners, and Vince reaped the benefits. 

Instead of being angry, Astrid would sigh and say, “Oh, Howard,” and look a bit wistful. Vince had expected her to ditch Howard when he couldn’t appreciate her gifts, but she only seemed to like Howard more for being so hopeless. 

“Give her the jellyfish. Anything is better than some musty old jazz album.”

“Is that your idea of being helpful?” Howard snapped. 

Vince shrugged. “I got more important things to worry about than you and your so-called girlfriend. It’s not like you’re going to actually give her anything. You’re just gonna hold it up to the computer screen. When is she even coming back from the Amazon?”

Howard frowned. “She’s hunting for some kind of…”

“Some kind of what?”

“I’m not supposed to discuss it. Top secret and all.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to tell anyone your precious secret.”

“You live-tweeted the most private moment of my life.”

Vince wondered if Howard meant the night he’d lost his virginity to Astrid or his recent prostate exam. Howard had been more angry about the former, but the latter had been tweeted in far more explicit detail.

Vince didn’t ask for clarification. Howard was already peeved enough.

“So when is your ‘girlfriend’ actually gonna come see you in person again? It’s been months.”

“Astrid and I are free spirits. We aren’t worried about pinning ourselves down to dates…”

“You’re just gonna wait at the door, wagging your tail, until she decides to come back, aren’t you? You’re so uncool, you’re becoming a heat source. I’m afraid that rollneck is going to melt.”

“Don’t start acting up because you’re jealous. Astrid and I are very happy.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Jealous? Of you two slobbering all over each other and listening to jazz? She’s probably got eight boyfriends just like you. Just a bunch of sad old men, hanging on her every word while she runs off with all the male models and actors…”

Howard had his hands over his ears and was screaming, “La, la, la.” Astrid was encouraging Howard to stop listening to the negative thoughts in his head. Howard was taking it a step further and refusing to listen to Vince as well. That Vince’s voice had apparently become as negative as the voice in Howard’s head was an upsetting thought, but Vince was too angry to care. 

Jealous? Everyone knew Howard’s relationship was a joke.

Vince waited for Howard to uncover his ears.

“Are you quite finished?” Howard asked, stiffly. He had his chest puffed out and seemed to be daring Vince to say something unkind.

Vince shrugged. “Maybe she only gets horny twice a year. If that’s the case, you two have a perfect relationship.”

Howard sputtered for a few minutes, flailing his arms for impotent emphasis, before yelling, “That’s enough of your… input. I’ll work it out on my own.”

“Except for those two times a year, when you get to work it out on your girlfriend…”

“Enough!”

Howard’s face was bright red with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Making a leap across the physical boundary hadn’t made Howard any less hung-up or repressed when it came to sex. In fact, he might have gotten worse.

“Cool your jets, Romeo. I’m sure she’s perfectly happy just chatting with you and missing out of those steamy nights of being told, ‘don’t move!’” 

Instead of losing his cool, Howard simply tilted his head and gave Vince an ugly smile.

“It really eats you up, doesn’t it? You had your chance, sir, and you blew it.”

Vince felt his face turning red at the insinuation. 

“As if I wanted to be with some jazz-loving weirdo with no fashion sense…”

“You adore everything Astrid wears. I’ve seen you up late at night, photoshopping your head onto her body,” Howard said. “Don’t bother pretending you don’t fancy her. You saw her first, and you passed her along because you wanted an excuse for yet another party.”

The stupid party. The night that had ruined everything.

“If I ever wanted Astrid, that ended the first time I heard you flopping around on top of her like a beached whale,” Vince snapped back. He then added his best humpback whale call, just for emphasis. 

Howard was supposed to get all flustered and embarrassed, but instead his face went cold and very still.

“Is that what you heard? Hmmm? When you were listening to us through the wall? Glass up to your ear? Is that what you heard, little man?”

Vince hadn’t used a glass. There was a hollow bit between their walls where Naboo sometimes hid his stash, and it was easy enough to hear Howard just by pressing his ear to the wall. There had been no humpback whale noises, just quiet giggles and creaking bedsprings as Howard had made the leap across the physical boundary that meant he would be with Astrid forever. 

“It’s hard to remember. It was over so fast.” 

Vince saw the blow hit, but Howard recovered quickly and again smiled an ugly smile.

“Must’ve been quick if you didn’t lose interest halfway through. Did you close your eyes so you wouldn’t get distracted by shiny objects?”

Vince had closed his eyes and tried to imagine exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall. Vince so vividly remembered the image in his mind of Howard all nervous and excited, it felt like a proper memory. He felt as though he’d been in the room, a part of Howard’s adventure instead of an eavesdropping perv.

“Two seconds, and yet Astrid still sounded bored…”

“Don’t drag her into this! Leave her out of your childish nonsense!” Howard yelled, finally looking properly angry instead of so calm and hateful.

“You said it yourself, Howard. I could have had her if I wanted. You should be thanking me for being so generous with my leftovers…”

“I’m warning you, Little Man…”

“I could be the one getting laid twice a year…”

Howard chuckled, and it made Vince’s blood run cold.

“You could be, couldn’t you? Prince of Camden? Out every night, after spending all day getting ready, and yet, and yet you’re sleeping alone every night. Every single night. I don’t remember you ever bringing someone home. Tell me, oh stylish and fabulous Vince Noir: where are all your admirers?”

Vince’s brain shut down and the anger took over.

“I’m not going to bring someone here, am I? So they can ask why I’m living with my dad? I don’t need them seeing some sad old git darning his socks. I don’t enjoy having to explain you to people, do I? It’s embarrassing enough that people see us together during the day…”

“I embarrass you? I had to help you tape your shirt in place so your nipples wouldn’t fall out. That is not something men normally have to do for their mates. Not the scintillating and challenging conversation a man hopes for, trying to figure out which glue won’t make your nipples swell up.” 

Vince refused to so much as look down at his outfit. He wouldn’t give Howard the satisfaction of being self-conscious.

“I know you’ve never been up close and personal with a nipple before. I don’t want you falling in love with me and writing me your shite poetry…”

“As if I’d fall in love with someone like you. I’m more like your minder. I have to watch out for sharp objects and corners, so you don’t blind yourself. You’re like a toddler who’s been given an energy drink…”

“It’s called having fun, Howard. It’s what people do before they wither and become dried-up old husks like you.”

“Good luck trying to find someone to watch over you when I leave, Little Man. I don’t think you’ll find all that many people lined up for such a thankless task.”

“Whatever will I do for the two weeks it’ll take you to fuck everything up and come crawling back?”

“Good luck finding someone to butter your big thighs so you can squeeze into your drainpipes.”

“I’ll wring some of the grease from your hair before you leave. That’ll last a few months.”

“I don’t have time for your nonsense…”

“Yes you do! You have plenty of time, because you have absolutely no life. You hang out with Lester Cornflakes and, twice a week, you chat with a girl who wouldn’t have looked twice at you if she hadn’t been short on cash. You have more than enough time for my nonsense.”

Howard was glaring, but it was clear his brain had seized up. Howard couldn’t think when he was angry. Or scared. Or happy. Howard couldn’t handle thinking and feeling emotions at the same time. Vince knew he needed to apologize and make it right - they couldn’t spend Christmas Eve fighting - but he wanted to see Howard stew just a bit longer. 

Vince had nightmares about the terrible fates that would befall him when Howard moved out. Falling over while putting on his drainpipes was one of his deepest fears. He could be trussed up on his floor for days or even weeks before Naboo or Bollo found him. Life without Howard was too scary to contemplate. It wasn’t right for Howard to talk about leaving Vince during an argument. It crossed the line.

Vince was waiting for the right moment to make amends when Howard asked, “When did you get so ugly, Little Man?”

Vince threw the expensive earrings against the wall, while Howard stood frozen. Too late, it occurred to Howard to reach for the jazz record, but Vince had already sent it flying. He didn’t bother to look and see if either gift was broken. It was Howard’s problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Howard half hoped that one of the gifts would be broken, thereby making his decision for him, but the effort Howard had put into making sure they were safely packaged had paid off.

Vince was right, of course. Howard was completely out of his depth with Astrid. After their week together, she’d gone back to America and they’d stayed in contact through video chat. Then a week had gone by without a word from Astrid, and Howard had accepted that it was over. He’d thrown himself into his acting career and had some headshots made up with Lester, and had even gone to Denmark for a few weeks. He’d been feeling good about himself for getting over his first romance when Astrid had called him up on the computer. There she’d been, as beautiful as ever, with actual birds’ nests (and birds) in her hair. She’d explained through choking sobs that she’d tried a sample of a shampoo that was “guaranteed to make you feel like a princess.” The shampoo contained shards of diamond for shine and just the tiniest bit of pheromones to draw small woodland animals into your periphery. The pheromones were apparently far too strong and Astrid had spent weeks trapped in an idyllic forest, covered in tiny animals who ineptly tried to sew her gowns. Howard had brought Vince in to talk to the birds and to give Astrid tips on removing a bird’s nest from her hair. Vince had been through that ordeal more than once, between his tendency to fall asleep in the zoo enclosures and his strong resemblance to either an owl or a crow (depending on the amount of hairspray). 

Watching them speak, Howard had felt profoundly lucky to have two such beautiful people actually want to be in his life. Then he’d felt terrified, because it could only be a matter of time before he lost one or both of them. Howard wasn’t meant to be lucky. It wasn’t his shtick. Howard was the born loser.

There had been other times when Astrid disappeared, like when she’d tried Anthony Kiedis’s “Under the Bridge” hair treatment and had ended up spending a week running in slow motion through LA, and Howard had handled each incident worse than the last, but Astrid continued to be patient and sweet. It was like she hadn’t gotten the character bios and didn’t realize she was meant to look down on Howard. Instead, she wanted to lift him up and help him to be more confident. Howard desperately wanted to give her the right gift. He wanted to be a good boyfriend. He wanted to be worthy of her kindness. Most of all, he didn’t want her to give up on him. Vince was striking out on his own, and it was only a matter of time until he wanted more space and Howard was alone. Howard didn’t want to make a new best friend. Howard didn’t want to go through all the nonsense of getting to know a whole different person. Lester had taken up enough of Howard’s time. It would take years to get to know someone else the way he knew Vince, and Howard wasn’t sure he had it in him to go through it again. There were only so many people on the planet capable of befriending Howard Moon, and that a truly lovely woman like Astrid was one of them was amazing. It was so remarkable, Howard sometimes stayed awake at night, wondering how he would eventually ruin it.

But Howard had the rest of his life to ruin his first real romance. It was Christmas Eve, and Howard needed to extend the olive branch to Vince. The ‘ugly’ comment had clearly struck a nerve, and Howard wanted to clear the air. Vince had been snide and miserable since Howard’s party, when he’d brought Astrid into Howard’s life. Howard recognized Vince’s brattiness as a well-worn defense mechanism not to be taken to heart, but it was still grating and hard to ignore. 

And Vince had a way of saying such ugly words with such a look of indifference on his charming face, it cut Howard to the quick. 

But he wanted a nice Christmas with Vince, so he’d try and let the hurt go. For now.

Xxx

Vince usually blasted music while he got ready, but that night he dressed in silence in case... someone tried knocking on his door. As the clock moved towards ten, Vince knew there would be no knock. For ten years, Howard and Vince had shared a drink and a few sweets between 11 and 12 o'clock, before Vince went out for the night. Of course, back in the day they’d gone out together, but now Howard preferred a quiet night in to a pub, and he preferred almost anything to the type of clubs Vince favored.

Sometimes Vince missed those days, mainly the way Howard would end up drunk and silly. He was different at the pub. He would be very protective of Vince, sometimes physically shielding him from other patrons and telling off anyone who tried to talk to Vince. One year, a man had patted Vince's arse and Howard had bit him. Howard had gone and bit another human being on the arm, like a wild animal. He hadn't broken the skin, but they’d literally been thrown out and given a lifetime ban. The next morning, Howard hadn't remembered a thing but had laughed uproariously at Vince's retelling of the story. Over the years, the story had grown and become more epic and heroic, but unlike other stories he had embellished over the years, Vince had a crystal clear memory of the actual event. Vince had reflexively slapped at the offending hand, more embarrassed than angry, and then Howard had started yelling. Drunk Howard was far braver than his sober counterpart. Howard had called the man an animal, said, “Do you want to be treated like an animal?”, and then bitten him. It was one of the best moments of Vince's life.

More recently, Howard had shown very little interest in protecting Vince. Howard had spent years domesticating Vince, taking him from a sharp-tongued, angry brat to a loving lapdog. Then Howard had taken up with Astrid and let Vince return to a feral state. He’d been backsliding for a while, but Howard had refused to call Vince to heel. He simply watched as Vince became more lost in the Camden scene.

Vince had shown Howard his costume for the fancy dress party at the Velvet Onion, and Howard hadn’t so much as blinked. Vince had been prepared for Howard to insist he make the costume less see-through and insubstantial, but Howard didn’t care if Vince went partying naked. Now Vince was going to have to run around Camden with his bits barely covered. There weren’t enough Mistletoe-tinis in the world for Vince to feel comfortable dancing in the costume. He’d have to sort of sway and hope everything stayed in place.

When it came time to put the outfit on, Vince realized he needed help with the zip. Naboo and Bollo had been gone for days. Vince had no idea when they’d return. He either had to interrupt Howard’s regular chat with Astrid and ask for help or wander into the streets with his barely-present costume ready to fall off his body. It wasn’t an easy decision.


	3. Chapter 3

Howard jumped when Vince finally walked down the stairs. It was nearly 11. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Vince could forgive in a second or hold a grudge for years. He was too changeable. It was unsettling.

Even more unsettling was Vince’s costume. His nude bodysuit was heavy on the nude. Decorated with lace and glass bubbles, Vince’s outfit was as bizarre and impractical as it was beautiful. Vince wouldn’t be able to move or sit, but he was stunning. 

“Are you a god?” Howard asked, hoping to lighten the tension. Vince looked confused for a moment and then laughed. 

“I’m Gozer the Gozerian. The Traveler has come. Choose and perish.”

“I choose to slowly die as a result of a sedentary lifestyle. I’ll be gone in fifty, sixty years.”

“The choice is made.”

“You’re going to get arrested in that outfit. It’s obscene.”

Vince stroked his costumed arm. “But it’s perfect.”

“It is at that,” Howard agreed, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the less revealing portions of the outfit. “You’ll be the toast of the party, even if no one can admit they’re old enough to get the reference.”

Vince’s face dropped into an expression of pure sadness. “Ghostbusters is a classic. No one’s saying I saw it in the theaters! I would’ve been a baby.”

“Of course you were, Little Man. I saw it when it first came out, but I was a mature thirty-seven in 1984…”

“Quit lyin’ ‘bout your age, Howard. It’s just sad.”

“Fine, I was a youthful forty-two.”

As they shared a smile, Howard wondered if it was time to apologize or if he should let the moment go, but Vince changed the subject.

“What happened to Astrid? You never end your chat before half eleven.”

Howard felt unaccountably self-conscious as he explained he and Astrid had delayed their discussion until midnight so Howard could spend his traditional time with Vince, but it warmed his heart when Vince beamed at the explanation. For all the times Vince treated Howard like a burden, he was protective of their time together. It hadn’t occurred to Howard to skip his traditional drink with Vince, but it had clearly occurred to Vince. 

“I’m sorry ‘bout earlier, Howard,” Vince mumbled as he scuffed his boot on the floor. “I am jealous of Astrid. Mainly ‘cause of her shoe collection…”

“It puts yours to shame,” Howard agreed sadly. “And she doesn’t have your gargoyle feet.” 

Vince clutched his heart. “I didn’t have a go at your skinny little legs and knobby knees…”

Howard was about to make a joke about Vince’s muscular legs, but he’d already said enough. “My legs are willowy and sleek.”

“And my legs…”

“Are shapely and well-toned,” Howard interrupted before Vince could make a joke about his chicken drummers. “And your feet are fine.”

“Even my hairy toes?”

“Your toe hair is shiny and voluminous, just like the hair on your head.”

Vince gave a small smile and then turned his back to Howard.

“Zip me?”

Howard’s hands felt far too large for the delicate zipper, but soon Vince was properly covered. Howard couldn’t resist a glance down to see that Vince was wearing nude pants under his outfit. Looking at the thin material clinging to the swell of Vince’s arse, it was something of an effort to drag his eyes back upwards.

They both startled when out on the lawn, there arose a huge fucking clatter.

“Santa!” Vince yelled, throwing his arms in the air. 

Howard groaned. “Not that prick.”

“Don’t be starting shit with Santa on Christmas Eve. You’ll get all our presents taken back. I been good all year. I want pressies.”

“He always gives me rubbish gifts. Last year, I got orthotic sandals.”

“You’re wearing them now,” Vince pointed out. “You love them.”

“They support my arches while massaging my insoles, but they’re still a rubbish Christmas gift.”

“Ho, ho, whoa! I smell some Christmas cheer!” called a familiar and distinctly American voice. Everything Howard had learned about the kindly and gentle Father Christmas had been destroyed by meeting the actual Santa Claus. His belly did shake like a bowl full of jelly, and he did eat up any cookie in sight, but the legend had failed to mention he would also eat up all your takeaway leftovers and drink your booze if you didn’t hide it well enough.

“Naboolio! I’ve got a state of the art vape system for a little shaman who remembered his best customer… Vincey!” Santa cried as he stumbled into the room. “Look at you! You’re trying to get on the naughty list, but you look so nice.”

Vince laughed as Santa looked him up and down and licked his lips. Howard sometimes wondered if all of America looked and acted like Bob Fossil in a series of wigs.

Santa flopped into a chair, dropping his red velvet sack of gifts to the ground beside him and patting his knee. “Why don’t you sit your tight little asscheeks on Santa’s knee and tell him what you want stuffed in your… stockings?”

Howard frowned as Vince gamely dropped into Santa’s lap. He wanted to drag Vince away, but Vince had made it very clear over the years that he was a grown man who could take care of himself. At the zoo, it had been easy to think of Vince as a kid, but once they’d started sharing a living space, Howard had learned the hard way that Vince wasn’t nearly as innocent as he seemed. 

Vince looked as wide-eyed as a child as he rattled off a list of expensive gifts while Santa eagerly ogled him, until Howard gave in to his baser instincts and physically pulled Vince to his feet.

“Vince doesn’t want herpes for Christmas, so let’s break this party up,” Howard said, making every effort to look indifferent as he pulled Vince a safe distance away.

“That was an ugly rumor and it was just a canker sore, but that reminds me…” Santa made a big show of searching his present sack before saying, “It isn’t here. I meant to pack an extra large condom for you, Vince, because I know you have a giant dick… for a flatmate.” 

Vince and Santa shared a laugh while Howard glared at them both.

“Your friend is ruining my buzz, Vincey-pie. Now where’s Naboo and his Christmas Cheer?”

“Naboo’s off on shaman business,” Vince explained, “but he said to give you this.”

Vince handed Santa a festively wrapped package that looked like a cigar but smelled like, well, their flat. Santa sniffed the package and gave another boisterous laugh.

“Ho, ho, homegrown shit! Naboo’s own strain. I smell a bit of White Widow, some Diesel, a bit of Purple Haze, and, if I’m not wrong, a whole shitload of PCP! This night’s going to fly by! Rudolph won’t be the only one getting lit tonight.”

“Santa!” Vince cried. “You can’t get high when you’re delivering presents!”

“Vincey, I can’t deliver presents if I’m not off my tits. Do you know how many houses I have to go to tonight? Have you ever squeezed yourself down a chimney?”

Howard and Vince both took a moment to think, but ultimately agreed that it was one of the few things in life they’d never experienced.

“Well, it’ll fuck you up. People aren’t supposed to be in chimneys. I have a sleigh pulled by REINDEER. What kind of insane trust exercise is that bullshit? I need something to soothe my jangled nerves. Speaking of soothing what’s gotten jangled…” Santa was again eyeing Vince’s costume. 

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Santa, but Vince is getting ready for a party, and I was just about to go have a chat with my girlfriend…”

“Ho, ho, ho, that’s a good one, Howard!” Santa cried as he slapped his knee. “You with a girlfriend? I know I didn’t slip her under your tree. I got you thermal socks.”

Howard felt annoyed by Santa’s mockery and his lousy gift, but his toes were already feeling chilly just at the thought of a nice pair of thermal socks to go with his orthotic sandals. 

“Howard’s really got a girlfriend,” Vince explained. “She’s pretty and has a great job and everything. She sends Howard all kinds of nice gifts…”

“And she doesn’t make me sit in her sweaty lap to get them,” Howard added, feeling a bit miffed that Santa, who supposedly watched them day and night, had failed to realize that Howard had a lady in his life. 

“You wish you could sit in my lap,” Santa snapped. “Fag.”

“Santa!” Vince cried. “You can’t talk like that, it’s homoerotic.”

“Homophobic,” Howard whispered.

“Homophonic,” Vince repeated. Howard let it go. It was Christmas, after all.

“What are you talking about?” Santa asked, looking confused. “Can I get a cigarette or what? I know you still have a pack hidden, Moon.”

Howard avoided Vince’s eyes as he retrieved his ‘emergency stash’ from the memo pad annex of stationery village. He could feel Vince’s disappointment, but the cellophane was still intact. Howard hadn’t been a regular smoker since taking Vince on as an apprentice. Vince had been incredibly sensitive to cigarette smoke when he was young and would cough until he gagged and tears rolled down his face, all the while assuring Howard he was fine. The smell of smoke on Howard had been enough to start a coughing fit. Once he’d given up smoking at work and during his commute, it had only made sense to quit entirely. So he had. Seven times, before it took. Howard had the occasional lapse, but he hadn’t had so much as a puff in months. Astrid worried about him smoking, and while she was usually a million miles away, Howard knew his guilty eyes would give him away if he went back on his word. He didn’t like to let her down.

“Have the pack,” Howard said with a forced nonchalant air. “I’m off the cancer sticks for good.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “I had to spend years on the brink of death to get him to quit, but she says,” Vince sucked in his cheeks and pouted his lips and suddenly looked unsettlingly like Astrid before saying, “‘Howie?’”

Howard glared, but was inwardly impressed by the accuracy. She called him Howie, and he’d sworn off cigarettes. It was easier to swear off smoking when you were down to less than a pack a week. He’d been at two and a half packs a day when Vince had come to the Zoo.

Santa laughed and made a sound like a whip crack. “Good for you, Howard. You stay pussy whipped! You do whatever you have to do to keep that girl. You will never get another girl. Never. Even a sex robot would tell you to fuck off, you sandal-wearing freak of nature.”

“Thank you, Santa. That’s enough.”

“What about you, Vincey?” Santa asked, getting a bit closer to Vince than strictly necessary. “Any new girlfriends? Boyfriends? Polar Bears?”

“We’re just mates,” Vince snapped. “I’ve been very clear with him. I’m not moving to the North Pole and he don’t want to live in a zoo, so there’s nowhere for this thing to go. He’s got to move on.”

“Hang on,” Santa said as he pulled a candy cane-striped phone from his pocket and began typing a message, mumbling, “He says it’s over, dude. You gotta move on,” as he did so.

Now it was Vince’s turn to look sheepish as Howard glared. Vince made letting his admirers down gently into a surreal art form. People went for years without realizing they’d been chucked by Vince Noir.

“So who do you have your eye on, Vincey?” Santa asked in his holly jolly slimeball way. Whatever Vince mouthed with his back to Howard, Santa clearly found it appalling.

“Still? Why? I’m sorry, Vince, but the thought of it makes me puke in my mouth a little, and I’ve had a lot of cookies and milk tonight. I need to get up to the roof, smoke a doob, have a few fags… and then smoke a few cigarettes! Get it, ‘cause you English people call cigarettes fags, but in America…”

“We get it,” Howard cried, slamming his fist on the counter and immediately gasping for air as pain shot through his arm.

“You are so old and weak,” Santa observed as Howard rubbed his sore arm. “Like a weak, ugly old man. Here are your socks. You can wear them to the home for the elderly and infirm.”

Howard accepted the socks grudgingly. Santa was an ass, but his feet felt warmer just looking at the thick yarn. 

“And for you, Vincey, I have…” Santa paused for dramatic effect. “The perfect Mistletoe-tini!”

Vince clapped his hands as Santa produced two dusty and exotic-looking bottles from his bag and poured a red and then a green liquid into the martini glasses Vince had fetched from a display case. The red floated to the top, while the green stayed beneath. 

“You familiar with the term ‘Yankee Swap’?” Santa asked. “It’s a game you play at Christmas. You take turns opening presents and other people can steal your gift or you can steal theirs. The best gifts get fought over, while everyone else feels like a useless pile of crap for the shitty gifts they bought. It’s a terrible game, but it makes you think. Makes you think about what you want and what you already have. You see, the hardest part of being Santa is that most people don’t really know what they want, only what they’re supposed to want.”

Howard wanted to inhale his drink to make Santa more bearable, but the drink was sweet and syrupy, and he could only take small sips. Vince, meanwhile, was eagerly drinking his own.

“This is genius, Santa. So what’s the point of all this babbling about Yankee Swaps?” Vince asked.

“For one thing, these bottles are for Naboo and Bollo, so they’ll probably be pretty pissed off that you’ve been drinking from them, but also… Little Vincey, you need to figure out what you really want. Oh, and here’s your real gift.”

Vince’s face lit up at the bag of clothes Santa produced from his sack of gifts, though his expression became a bit less certain as he sorted through the mixture of stylish clothing and obscene undergarments. 

Vince stared at a pair of pants that was made up almost entirely of ribbon. “Um, thanks, Santa. This is… creepy.”

“I hope you get to put them to good use, Vincey, because I am always watching and I do like it when you’re naughty. Ho, ho, ho yeah! Well, I’ve got a shit-ton of houses to visit, and I need to spark this bone to get through it. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fucking night. Peace out.”

Santa placed his finger aside of his nose and snorted a white powder from his pinky nail before disappearing.

“He is disgusting,” Howard observed, using a pen to pick through the clothes in Vince’s gift bag. He picked up a thong that appeared to have some shrubbery attached.

“What is this meant to be?” Howard asked, holding the pants up to the light. 

“It’s mistletoe,” Vince cooed, pressing up against Howard’s arm. Howard looked down into Vince’s eyes. His dark makeup should have been sinister, but it just made his eyes look even bigger and bluer than usual. Howard averted his eyes and jumped when he felt Vince’s lips against his cheek. Howard didn’t know how to handle these moments. Clearly, he and Vince had long ago given up any attempt at having a normal friendship, but Howard still wasn’t sure how navigate some of the murkier waters. How was a man supposed to handle a kiss from his nearly-naked mate? Vince had made it clear on the roof and when Howard had made a hesitant advance after returning from Denmark that he wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship or even a bit of fun. Vince would flirt, and kiss Howard, and casually cross every line imaginable, but Howard was frozen, unsure of what would or would not be allowed. 

Howard stood with his eyes closed while Vince kissed him again, this time on the lips. Howard dropped the novelty pants when Vince’s tongue flicked at his lips. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue against Vince’s. Vince tasted sickly sweet from the syrupy drink, but he tasted good.

And he felt good. Howard tried to avoid the various baubles attached to the bodysuit as he ran his hands over Vince’s back. He wanted to move his hands lower, but what he was doing was bad enough. Astrid never seemed overly concerned about his indiscretions with Vince. In fact, she treated it a bit like a soap opera. Howard sometimes asked her what she thought was going on in Vince’s head, but she would only shrug and say things like, “He likes kissing you, silly. You’re a good kisser,” or, “Was he wearing the shoes I sent him? Did they look good?”

He didn’t understand Astrid any better than he understood Vince, but Astrid was willing to take a chance on Howard. She wanted to be with him, to make love to him and discuss a future together. Howard couldn’t give that up for a potential something with Vince. 

“Astrid will be expecting me…”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get to six parties in the next four hours or a lot of people are going to be really angry with me. Tell Astrid that shampoo she sent is genius. It’s like washing your hair in a mountain stream.”

Howard nodded his head too quickly and felt a bit dizzy. The drink must have been stronger than he’d thought.

“Oi, Howard. I don’t feel…”

Howard reached for Vince, who had turned even whiter under his makeup, but then Howard’s knees went weak and he fell. He blinked, but the room was spinning and he couldn’t focus his eyes.

“Vince?” he called. 

“Howard…”

Howard turned towards the voice but ended up looking in a mirror. He tried to run a hand through his hair, but it was like a solid wall. His reflection was staring at him but not mimicking his movements. Howard waved, but the reflection simply said, “Howard?”

Howard looked at his hands. They looked tiny and the proportions were all wrong. And his nails were painted.

“Howard?”

It was Howard’s face, and Howard’s voice, but it was Vince’s South London accent saying, “Howard.”

“What’s going on?” Vince asked with Howard’s face. Howard had never seen his own eyes look so wide.

Howard touched his face and felt the sharp cheekbones and the unmistakable nose. He looked at his body, just barely covered by strategically placed bits of spandex and glass bubbles. Then he threw his head back and screamed, “Fuck you, Santa!”

But Santa had already taken off, like the down of a thistle. The only words he said as he flew out of sight were, “Ho, ho, ho yeah! That is good shit, Naboolio!”


	4. Chapter 4

Vince struggled to work his oversized body. Everything was wrong. He had spent quite a bit of time eyeing Howard’s long and slim legs, imagining them in all sorts of positions, but he had never considered the physics of carrying around a body on such a pair of stilts. He felt like a wobbly deer as he tried to stand up.

“Here, Little Man,” Howard said in Vince’s voice, offering a little, stubby-fingered hand that was clearly too small to hold Howard’s oversized paw. They both nearly fell as Howard pulled Vince to his feet. 

“Why would Santa do this?” Howard asked. Vince reached out to smooth the brow Howard was so casually furrowing in his confusion. His face would be as lined as Howard’s if he didn’t get them switched back soon. Howard ducked away from the touch, and his nervous look was magnified by Vince’s dramatically painted eyes. He looked like one of those big-eyed kids from those paintings.

“I don’t know,” Vince answered, even as he wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had specifically asked Santa in one of his drunken and overly honest letters to have Howard inside him. Or to be inside Howard.

He had written Santa a lot of letters since Astrid had entered the picture.

Howard picked up the bottle of green liquor and read in his disconcerting voice, “‘Body Swap Potion and Liqueur. Switch bodies for a day or a week! Spice things up in the bedroom, foster interracial harmony, live your own Freaky Friday or win the big game…’”

Vince picked up the red bottle, labeled “Body Swap Activator and Cordial.”

“Santa is a dick,” Vince sighed, disturbed by the voice coming out of his mouth. Howard’s mouth.

“Why would Naboo want this?” Howard asked thoughtfully. 

“Because it’s delicious,” Vince answered before trying to drain another drop out of his glass. He got a tiny taste, but it tasted sickeningly sweet instead of delicious.

“Will you stop drinking the body-swapping magic potion?” Howard snapped, sounding pissier than usual. “What are we going to do?”

Vince laughed when Howard’s voice broke in his anger. “You sound like a squawking bird! That is hilarious!”

“This is your voice, you berk! How am I supposed to talk to Astrid… Astrid! I was meant to call her at midnight. It’s already five minutes past. She’s probably moved on, found someone less complex, less…”

“She hasn’t even had time to update her Cheekbones.com profile. Relax. You’re going to make my hair fall out with all that stress.”

“I thought Cheekbone was a magazine.”

“Cheekbone is the only magazine. Cheekbones.com is a dating website for people with amazing cheekbones.”

Howard sighed and picked up the bottle, reading the label.

“The spell kicks in at midnight the day you drink it, and lasts… 5 oz. lasts exactly one week. In parentheses, it says results may vary. ‘Contact your local shaman if body swap lasts more than six months…’”

Howard hung his head in despair. “Astrid will never believe this. It’s as good as over…”

“Stop sulking with my face,” Vince scolded. “My face is dramatic enough without your over-acting.”

“You’re going to have to pretend to be me, Vince. Just show her the earrings, tell her you’re going to be out of town for a week…”

Vince rolled his eyes and started making his way up the stairs toward Howard’s bedroom. He took the steps two at a time, just because he could. Howard’s long legs and sensible footwear had their advantages.

“Ow!” Howard cried. “How do you walk in these awful things?”

Vince turned and saw Howard at the bottom of the stairs, pulling off his boots.

“Oi! Them are expensive boots, be careful.”

Howard had already pulled off the boots and socks and was rubbing his toes.

“Will you please put your socks on?” Vince yelled. “No one wants to see my toes.”

“I’m amazed you have any left,” Howard said as he continued massaging his toes. Vince hated the sight of his feet, and there Howard was, stroking Vince’s misshapen toes. “Those shoes are murder on your feet.”

“Astrid has probably had enough time to update her Cheekbones.com profile by now.”

Howard jumped to his (unfortunately) bare feet and ran up the stairs.

Xxx

Astrid was concerned when Howard didn’t call her right at midnight. Howard was always on time for their video chats and had been known to fall into despair if Astrid was a few minutes late for a scheduled date. Astrid hoped he hadn’t been kidnapped by some kind of monster, like Old Gregg or Eleanor. She only knew them by Howard’s descriptions, but they sounded terrifying.

As far as Astrid was concerned, her relationship with Howard Moon was perfect. It hardly mattered that they lived in different countries, because Astrid was constantly traveling the globe, seeking out the rarest and edgiest of fashions to return to ‘the shop.’ There were endless parties and always someone to whisk her off to a good time, but it was hard to know who was interested in Astrid, the human being, when everyone was so desperate to know Astrid, the buyer for the trend-making boutique in New York. 

Howard Moon had no interest in fashion. In fact, he actively avoided anything fashionable or remotely trendy. He wore the clothing samples she gave him, but he was careful to mix the high-end, beautifully stitched items with his ugliest and tackiest garments, lest anyone think his roommate, Vince, was rubbing off on him. 

It could be (and often had been) argued that Howard was completely insane, but Astrid worked in high fashion. She wasn’t fussed by a bit of insanity. Howard was nice, sincere, and required very little time or effort. Having Howard as a “boyfriend” really only took up about four hours a week, max, and her parents were thrilled with the heavily edited version of Howard that Astrid had shared with them. She emphasized the old-fashioned and jazz-loving aspects of Howard and played down the living with a shaman and a talking gorilla bit. They already worried about her enough.

Though Howard was low-maintenance in terms of time and effort, he was impossibly sensitive and could turn anything into a rejection. He’d been known to write sorrowful poetry if Astrid was five minutes late for a scheduled date, so Astrid did her best to be on time. She wasn’t a worrier by nature, but Howard was now almost fifteen minutes late and Astrid’s stomach was beginning to knot.

When the pulsing beep of an incoming video chat filled the air, Astrid let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Howard! I was getting worried…”

Howard was fussing with his hair and moving around to get the light to hit him in a more flattering way, while Vince twitched and cleared his throat, his big blue eyes darting about.

“Oh my god, did you guys switch bodies?”

The shock on their faces was all the answer she needed. In the back of Astrid’s brain, she was already imagining the million uses for controlled body-swapping in her industry. She could rent out her body to fashion models desperate to eat a hamburger.

“That’s a funny thing,” ‘Vince’ said, confirming that it was indeed Howard under the fabulous Gozer costume. “You see… Yes. Santa Claus gave us a body-swapping potion. He said it was a Mistletoe-tini…”

“Santa Claus? You know the Santa Claus? I know he has a contract with Coca-cola, but…”

“Forget it, Astrid,” Vince said with his South London accent and Howard’s resonant voice. “That contract is rock-solid. Not even Santa’s Christmas magic or his team of lawyer elves could break it.”

Astrid put the potential marketing ideas to the side and tried to refocus on Howard’s predicament. 

“Are the two of you… okay? I mean…” Astrid watched Howard and Vince shooting furtive looks at one another. They looked so unsettled. “Are you handling everything… I have no idea what to say right now.”

Howard’s shy but eager smile looked strange on Vince’s face, but it still made Astrid’s heart skip a beat. Howard always wore his heart on his sleeve, and Astrid loved him for it. Howard and Vince didn’t live in the real world. They lived in a world of adventures and magic, where friendship was everything. They were like Sesame Street, but with bad language and violence. And Bert and Ernie occasionally made out.

“We’re… We’re going to be fine. Thank you, Astrid.”

“For what?”

Howard’s twitchiness was magnified by Vince’s clean-shaven and expressive face.

“Thanks for everything.”

Howard looked away and Astrid felt her cheeks turning pink. Howard didn’t know a thing about how to talk to a lady, or anyone really, but his enthusiasm was infectious. Astrid was feeling giggly when she noticed Vince standing with his hands on his hips, pulling a powerful shape, and began laughing out loud. Vince wore Howard’s body well, and with confidence, but it was very strange to watch ‘Howard’ strut and preen. 

“Oh, Howard! This is crazy. I wish I could be there and take Vince shopping in your body! That would be amazing!”

Vince widened Howard’s little eyes. “That would be so much fun. I’m kind of sad we’ll switch back before you’re back from your expedition.”

Astrid was no fool; she knew Vince resented her relationship with Howard. Perhaps Howard was completely correct and Vince was not ready for a serious relationship, but he clearly did not care for other people taking up Howard’s precious time. Vince had no desire to share Howard, and sometimes he was snarky, but he was too essentially easygoing to be hostile. He glowered at her before complimenting her nail polish or giving her a tip on how to surprise Howard. If Astrid were not dating Howard, she and Vince would surely be the best of friends. 

“Can you imagine this body in stylish clothes?” Vince asked, holding up Howard’s long arms. “Cause I can’t.”

Astrid hadn’t immediately been attracted to Howard, but had grown to find him quite appealing. She wanted to dress Howard, and teach him how to show off his cheekbones and style his beautifully wavy hair, but she felt Howard’s discomfort even if he didn’t protest her efforts at making him over. She never wanted to add to his insecurity, so she tried to let him be. It was hard, because fashion and beauty were truly her life. 

But Vince shared her passion. Vince could moisturize, mousse, and style Howard to perfection. He could dress Howard’s body in flattering and well-made clothing. If anyone shared Astrid’s appreciation for Howard Moon’s body, it was clearly Vince Noir.

Astrid decided it was best she was in the Amazon, searching for a highly dangerous snake whose venom was a powerful paralytic (and could be used in a potent de-wrinkling serum). Spending time with Vince in Howard’s body could only lead to trouble. Things were likely to be complicated enough. 

“Howard,” Astrid said, choosing her words carefully, as Vince was there as well, “just remember what I said. Just be honest with me. Okay?”

Howard immediately flushed under Vince’s heavy makeup. Clearly, something had already happened between Vince and Howard since the last video chat. Vince would occasionally give Howard a little kiss, or a full-out snogging session, but Howard was adamant that they never went “beyond the kiss.” Astrid wasn’t sure if Vince was trying to slowly seduce Howard, if he was trying to mark his territory, or if he was truly just acting on impulse. Surely, Vince would eventually take the plunge and tell Howard how he felt, but as long as he was treading water, Astrid would continue to enjoy being Howard’s girlfriend. All she asked was that Howard be honest about any new developments in his relationship with Vince. Astrid had seen tons of movies; she knew she wasn’t the romantic lead in this story. She was prepared to be the girl who gracefully backed out in the face of true love. She was not going to be the sucker who was lied to and cheated on to spice up someone else’s romance. 

“There won’t be anything to tell,” Howard whispered earnestly, no doubt believing the words as he spoke. 

Vince was cupping Howard’s breasts and muttering, “They do feel bigger than they look,” and Howard was practically naked in Vince’s fancy dress outfit.

“Sure, Howie. Just… let me know if anything changes. Let me show you your Christmas gift! I found someone near you, actually, who goes by Dr. Sexytime Jazz Love…”

“Ain’t that Lester Corncrake’s e-mail?” Vince asked as Howard looked concerned.

“And he sold me this!” Astrid held up the incredibly rare album by Blind Yellow Citrus Fruit (formerly Blind Lemon, but he’d lost several lawsuits) Smith, known to contain one of the best and most stirring trumpet solos of all time. Astrid was prepared for Howard’s joy to be magnified on Vince’s face, but instead he looked flummoxed while Vince laughed uproariously and said, “Lester! What a dick.”

Astrid waited for an explanation, and Howard sadly held up an identical album. “Lester had two copies. What an asshole.”

Astrid laughed until Vince filled the screen with the most beautiful Moon Diamond earrings she had ever seen.

“Howard also bought these.”

Astrid was speechless. All she could manage was a half-strangled, “Howie.”

Vince pulled back the earrings and inspected them with a serious expression, suddenly looking like Howard.

“Howard thinks they look like jellyfish. Your boyfriend’s got no taste. ‘Cept for you, of course. You’re all right.”

Astrid was oddly moved.

“Thanks, Vince. Howard has exceptional taste in people.”

Howard tried to fidget with his hair, but Vince had clearly sprayed it solid. She’d miss Howard when he was gone. He was a nice boyfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

Vince tried texting Naboo and Bollo as Howard awkwardly said goodbye to Astrid, but neither responded. Vince was already itching to end their latest adventure. Howard’s rollneck seemed to be made of fiberglass, and his lank and greasy hair kept falling into Vince’s eyes. Vince had spent years fetishizing every part of Howard’s body, but he’d rather wanted to explore it from the outside. 

“Will you stop squeezing my tits?” Howard snapped. Vince hadn’t realized he was groping himself again. Everything just felt so different with Howard’s hands. 

“What were you and Astrid trying to say in code there?” Vince asked, trying to be more subtle as he ran his hand over his corduroy-covered bum. “Was that some kind of sex talk?”

Howard turned bright red and then yelled at Vince to leave his rear end alone.

“It’s my arse now,” Vince reminded Howard, though he did put his hands on his hips to try and keep them out of trouble. “You can give me a feel-up, but be careful with the costume. It took ages. I don’t know when I’ll get to wear it now.”

Howard suddenly seemed to realize he was nearly naked.

“Were you really going to go outside in this?” Howard asked as he plucked at the delicate material.

“Lay off the fabric, Freddy Grabby-hands! That is well delicate. It can be torn by a harsh wind.”

“Then help me get out of it and into some proper clothes.”

Howard sounded grumpy, but his big blue eyes looked sad and a little frightened. 

“Since when are you shy? Remember last Christmas, when Santa gave me a digital camera to take pictures of them outfits he gave me? You sent him a hundred pictures of you, completely naked except for your orthotic sandals and a creepy smile.”

Howard puffed out his chest but then descended into giggles. Howard was always funny when he started giggling like a little kid, but it was different in Vince’s body. Instead of the juxtaposition of Howard’s manly appearance and girlish giggle, it was just Howard looking and sounding like a girl. Vince made a mental note to keep his own laugh properly manly, a guffaw rather than a giggle. He was going for androgynous, not actual lady.

“I’m not ashamed of my body,” Howard explained, casually swiping at his eyes and smearing mascara and eyeliner across his face. “It’s the powerful figure of a proper man…”

“Except for your knockers,” Vince interrupted while making a point of cupping Howard’s breasts. Worrying about his chest was one of Howard’s stranger insecurities, but Vince could never stop encouraging it.

“Those are the knockers of a man of action. This is the smooth chest of a boy,” Howard explained as he ran his hands over Vince’s chest. Vince could tell the gesture was meant to be amusing in its faux-lasciviousness… but it was strangely exciting. 

“Let’s get you into something less delicate,” Vince said, enjoying the authority in Howard’s voice and the way Howard instinctively responded by heading towards Vince’s room. Vince watched Howard enter his bedroom and then look around in confusion.

“It looks so different,” Howard murmured. “You’re so tiny.”

“I am a completely normal height for a man. Not tall, no, but normal! You’d be higher up if you’d left the boots on…”

Vince wanted to curse Howard’s fingers for being too long and awkward, but they were surprisingly deft as he undid the fastenings of Vince’s Gozer costume. Vince had always imagined Howard’s hands were too big for delicate work, but he began to wonder if Howard might not have perfect hands for sewing. If he was going to be trapped in Howard’s body for a week, he could spend that time working on a new wardrobe for himself. At least there’d be an upside to their adventure.

Vince started to gently push the thin material off of Howard’s shoulders, but Howard squawked, “Vince!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t just… undress me. A bit of privacy would be nice.”

“First of all, this is my body.”

“But I am currently occupying it.”

“And secondly, I have seen my body and your body naked loads of times.”

“But this is different,” Howard said weakly.

“Why?”

Howard continued to clutch the fabric to his chest. “I don’t know, but it is.”

Vince looked at Howard, looking small and fragile, and he had to agree that something was different. It was Vince’s body, but somehow foreign under Howard’s control. It made Vince want to touch his body and experience it as an outsider.

No wonder Astrid looked worried.

Vince looked down at the body he was inhabiting and considered the possibilities in a new light. For the next week, or at least until Naboo worked out how to switch them back, Howard’s body would belong to Vince. When Vince took a shower, it would be Howard’s body he was soaping up and scrubbing.

It wouldn’t be wrong or sexual… It surely wouldn’t be wrong. Vince was going to need to shower and dress, and even if Howard couldn’t be bothered to moisturize, Vince couldn’t bear the tight feeling of the dry skin on his cheeks. It would be his responsibility to take care of Howard’s body.

“Quit touching me like that,” Howard said, sounding nervous.

“I’m nowhere near you.”

“You know what I mean,” Howard said, his face a mass of twitches and tics. “Don’t touch my body like that.”

Vince returned his hands to his hips. He would need to wear mittens in public.

Howard carefully worked his way out of Vince’s costume, so he was left standing in a pair of nude-colored pants. He briefly held up the costume, whispering, “It’s so small,” before handing it over to Vince.

“Do you have anything like a proper pair of pajamas?” Howard asked, trying to sound gruff but just sounding bitchy. Howard often walked the gruff/bitchy line when he was uncomfortable, but he sounded particularly whiny in Vince’s voice.

Vince nearly ripped the drawer out of the stand when he tried to open it. It stuck a bit and he always had to give a good heave, but apparently Howard had a bit more strength in his arms and hands. 

Howard frowned at the silk and satin. “These don’t look very practical.”

“What are you planning on doing?” Vince snapped. “Some housework? You just wear them to sleep.”

Vince dug to the bottom of his drawer and found the flannel pajamas Howard had given him years before. They were soft and well-made, but Vince inevitably woke up sweating when he wore them. He tended to be cold during the day, but at night, Vince’s body turned into a furnace and he was forever kicking off his covers. 

Howard looked sad as he took his pajamas. Vince wondered if Howard was always so emotional but hid it better with his own face, or if the body swap was throwing him off.

“These are really nice,” Vince explained. “I just get warm at night. I wonder if you’ll get warm at night, or if I’ll be making your body all sweaty.”

They both turned red and looked away.

“Any word from Naboo?” Howard finally asked in a shaky voice.

Vince checked his phone once again. He knew there wouldn’t be a response, but he was desperate to have somewhere to focus his eyes.

Xxx

Howard took off the tiny pants with barely a glance down before jumping into the shower. Then he jumped right back out and turned up the cold water. Apparently, Vince’s fair skin could not tolerate properly hot water. 

Vince had sprayed his semi-mullet straight up, and Howard had been instructed to use a clarifying shampoo to free it from its hairspray prison. Howard kept adding more and more shampoo, but it was simply absorbed into his hairstyle. He scrubbed his face with soap labeled ‘for delicate skin’ and water, but even through the steam on the mirror (he was somewhat surprised such lukewarm water could even create steam), he could see his raccoon eyes. Howard chose one of the soaps Astrid had sent to wash the rest of his body. He wasn’t sure of Vince’s bathing routine, but he didn’t want to do any damage to Vince’s sensitive skin. It seemed like everything made Vince’s skin break out in a rash. Howard had tried the soap before, but it was so smooth and soft, he’d felt like he was washing himself with a Persian cat. He had found it unsettling. 

On Vince’s skin, the soap felt gentle and nice. Pleasant. He tried to imagine himself as hospital personnel, washing a patient in a detached and professional manner. He looked no more than was strictly necessary to ensure Vince’s body was clean. 

When Howard stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, but it felt wrong. He considered tucking the towel up under his armpits like a woman but thought Vince might take it as an unkind gesture. Howard settled for a fluffy bathrobe, embroidered ‘Vince Noir: Rock’n’Roll Star.’

He knocked on Vince’s door, feeling inexplicably nervous. When Vince finally answered, his cheeks were pink and Howard’s clothes were askew.

“What have you been doing?” Howard asked, trying to see into Vince’s room.

“What have you been doing? You look like a drowned rat,” Vince snapped. Vince’s anger was unsettling in Howard’s body. He looked a bit scary.

“I couldn’t get all of this… stuff out of my… your hair…”

Vince rolled his eyes and grabbed Howard by the arm, dragging him back toward the bathroom while calling him hopeless. 

Howard stood perfectly still as Vince rubbed assorted oils and lotions into his face. Howard was surprised at how rough Vince was with his beloved face. Howard had expected featherlike touches, rather than a thorough scrubbing. Howard stared at his newly cleaned face in the mirror. It had been years since Howard had seen Vince’s face completely free of makeup. Howard touched the flat bit of Vince’s nose. It felt like a nose, but different. Howard was immersed in his study of Vince’s nose when his robe was roughly pulled from his shoulders, and he was naked.

“Get in the shower,” Vince ordered. It didn’t occur to Howard to protest until he was under the water and having half a bottle of shampoo dumped on his head.

“You’re working with a full head of hair here,” Vince explained as he roughly dug his fingers into Howard’s scalp. “You can’t use two drops of shampoo and expect to wash out half a can of Goth Juice. I’ve seen my own tits before, you can relax a bit.”

Howard hadn’t realized he was covering his chest, but he felt overly exposed with his arms at his sides. Howard had been raised to believe the human body was a disgusting but necessary evil of the world and was best ignored. Howard didn’t dislike his body, but he’d never felt comfortable in his skin. He felt slightly less comfortable in Vince’s skin.

“I really do seem small from up here,” Vince observed. His face was hard to read. Vince’s face was never hard to read. 

“This is all very strange,” Howard said, hating the way his voice wobbled. “We need some tea…”

Howard trailed off as Vince ran a finger down Howard’s arm. Howard tried to turn his body away before Vince could see the effect he was having.

“Are you getting turned on?” Vince asked incredulously. 

“Don’t ask me that,” Howard snapped. “It’s rude. I can’t be held responsible for your libidinous physical responses to warm water and shampoo.” 

Howard stared at the wall and waited for Vince to politely leave him alone. Instead, he felt Vince’s fingertips gently brushing down his arm again. Howard felt panicky, but he couldn’t force himself to move away from the touch. Vince’s hand moved to Howard’s chest and ghosted over his stomach, moving steadily downwards. Howard threw the hand off and moved back under the running water, never daring to look back.

“Um, sorry. I’ll just… finish up your shower.”

Howard kept his eyes glued to the wall until Vince was gone. He was painfully hard, but he couldn’t touch himself in Vince’s body. Howard stood under the water until it turned cold and he felt like he again had a (rather tenuous) grip on the world.


End file.
